Chapter 10: The Crucible of Dominion
Inevitably, my eyelids peeled apart with the sluggishness of a hangover wrapped in molasses, my vision bleary and senses still muffled as if I'd danced a raucous jig with every demon of last night's revelry. "Why the fuck do I feel like I've been marinated in a cosmic brewery all night?" I muttered, voice rough and disjointed, my brain lagging in its morning processing cycle.
A calm, feminine tone, honeyed yet tinged with sterile authority, slid into my consciousness like an unexpected breeze. "Apologies, Irvine-mate. Orchid has been briefed: the dull ache you're enduring is a species-wide resonance effect. Your kind suffers a mild psychic malaise whenever their mental defenses are breached — a common, albeit unpleasant, side effect of hive integration."
"Side effects, huh?" I croaked, massaging my temple as the dull throb pulsed faintly beneath my skull. "Well, if this is the price for unlocking some of my newfound cosmic wizardry, I'll drink to it. Speaking of which, has Kimchi—the agitator—uncovered anything in the mental depths? And where the hell is she? I don't see her floating around."
At that moment, Orchid—my ever-watchful psionic sentinel—pivoted with a graceful turn that exposed a scene so startling it made my breath hitch: the agitator was no longer suspended ethereally above the floor like some ephemeral wraith. Instead, she lay sprawled prone, eyes locked intensely on me, her body flattened as though crushed by invisible weights.
"Holy shit—what the actual hell happened?" I blurted, panic cracking through my voice. "Is she okay? Did something go sideways in my mindscape? Did the hive crack me open and crawl inside?"
"Calm yourself, Irvine-mate," Orchid's voice coiled soothingly around my frayed nerves. "The agitator is intact. Merely suppressed by the hive's overwhelming psychic influence. In fact, the entire vessel is under this suppression, except Orchid and myself."
"Wait, why isn't the hive suppressing you?" The question slithered out, curiosity digging under the fog of my confusion.
Orchid's response was laced with uncertainty. "When the agitator collapsed, Orchid was still in torpor, the hive-link sealed tight. Upon her fall, I rose to assist, but the queen explicitly forbade any approach or link establishment with me; otherwise, I too would be consumed by the suppression. The agitator's vision stirred the hive into an agitated frenzy—a recurrence of the same primal lust the hive experienced the first time Orchid gazed upon little-mate-spawn."
My thoughts spun madly. What could have possibly flicked this switch? Last time, the hive's heatwave had been triggered by the sheer raw magnetism of my rugged, barely-legal babyface. (Yeah, right. The actual cause was some bizarre ripple effect of my boon triggering hive-wide pheromone surges.) But this time? The mystery gnawed at me like a rabid beast.
"No use wasting time guessing," I muttered, rubbing my jaw. "Let's wait for Kimchi to regain her bearings and ask what the fuck just happened. Meanwhile, how about a game to kill the time?"
"Oh? Which game does Irvine-mate wish to indulge in this time?" Orchid's voice carried a playful undertone, something that felt both tender and alien.
I thought for a second, then grinned internally. "I spy with my little eye… something beginning with…"
The hours bled away as Kimchi stirred and shaped her personality anew, emerging from torpor with sharper edges and brighter hues. Orchid stayed vigilantly crouched, scythe at the ready, like a guardian angel with a grudge.
"Do not fret, designation Orchid," Kimchi's voice rang calm, though tinged with lingering tension. "This one is now self-possessed again. The mating impulse hit harder this time—because we recognized it and were prepared. Apologies, Irvine-mate. We will work diligently to dampen this urge so it doesn't incapacitate our functioning."
"No apologies needed. Nothing happened that I'm complaining about," I replied, chuckling softly at the absurdity of having an entire hive writhing in lust because of me. "Still, what caused the hive to erupt like that?"
A faint, sweet, intoxicating pheromone swept through the mental air as Kimchi recalled the memory. "The hive's consumption of countless species has bestowed it near-omniscient psionic mastery. It can discern potential powers of any being it consumes. This is why I penetrated your Mindspace—to uncover your latent abilities. What we discovered confirms your status unequivocally: Irvine-mate, you possess the purest, most potent form of Psychokinesis—verging on Omni-kinesis. With training, you could wield all manner of psionic powers."
I was dumbfounded. Talk about cosmic lottery. I'd assumed I'd landed a mediocre boon, maybe a consolation prize. And yet here I was, a living psionic Swiss Army knife. It also explained the hive's erratic reactions: power was the ultimate currency, the force that turned cosmic conquerors into omnipotent gods.
The hive may be a terrifying colossus, but the more power it consumed, the easier it became to dominate new prey—biomass in, biomass multiplied. If I wasn't the mate, and my boon didn't stir its core, I'd have fed it a boon myself—one that could light galaxies aflame. But this gift was mine, and only a fool would waste such a divine edge.
"Alright then," I said, flexing mental fingers already itching to flex psychic muscle. "Training my mental defenses so I can talk to the queen—how do I start? Please don't say silent meditation for decades because I swear to the stars I'll lose my mind before the benefits kick in."
"While that is one tedious path, Irvine-mate, the queen would grow restless waiting for your progress. What I propose is far more efficient. I will assault your mental defenses with psionic power—deliberately, repeatedly. At first, you won't be able to resist. But as I heal and fortify your barrier, you will learn to reinforce it reflexively."
I paused, weighing the immense trust this required. One false move, one burst of doubt or fear, and my mind could shatter like brittle glass. But I had no choice. The agitator had already delved deep without lasting harm. And I was no fool—I would harness this gift fully or die trying.
"Will this be enough for me to converse with the queen by next week?" I asked.
"That depends on how far you push yourself," Kimchi answered. "In theory, a light conversation will feel like speaking to me—just a slight pressure at the back of your head. Strengthening your defenses will remove even that strain."
"Ready when you are."
"Very well. Orchid, cease distracting him," Kimchi ordered with a faint smirk.
Orchid froze, realizing she'd been unconsciously stroking my arm, then sheepishly retracted her hand. I chuckled quietly.
Kimchi's assault began—a sudden torrent of raw, scintillating psionic energy crashing into my mental wall. It felt like a thousand droplets of molten oil erupting and spurting painfully across every nerve ending inside my skull. My barrier groaned, cracking like ancient glass under pressure. Helpless, I watched the shards of my mind's defense splinter and splatter.
Then, mercifully, the pain eased, the attack ceased.
"Incredible, mate-spawn," Kimchi said, voice reverent. "Ten seconds against that barrage and you held strong—far beyond the threshold where a typical Quenicar's mind would have crumbled."
I didn't ask what a Quenicar was. Didn't need to. I basked in the rare comfort of soothing restoration as she mended my mental barrier.
"How was the pain, Irvine-mate?" Orchid's voice was gentle, tinged with worry.
"Not nearly as bad as I feared," I admitted. "If that pain had manifested physically, I'd be swearing like a sailor who just stubbed his toe on a steel beam. But mentally? Manageable."
"That's a sharp observation," Kimchi praised. "Your mind barrier's injury hurts, but your tolerance for psychic pain is unusually high."
I braced myself for round two, mouth set in grim determination.
"Okay, I'm ready. Let's fucking go again."